


Nothing's Fair in Love and War

by lizard_brains



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Angst, Cannibalism, Crying, M/M, Starvation, all jreg fans are gay everyone knows that, although no specifics, but i have no idea why youd want to read this as platonic, cant wait to repsark cannibalism discourse with this one, consensual cannibalism, if u really really wanna no homo it u can read this as platonic, implied/referenced blockade, its mostly just for the setting, nazi can have a little bit of comfort as a treat, rations, tankie gets no comfort tho fuck him, this is a war thing, war shortages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizard_brains/pseuds/lizard_brains
Summary: The two men sat on the couch, not saying a word to each other. Both of them were staring at the empty can of soup that was finished days ago on the small table in front of them. That was their last piece of produce, and the dread of starvation hung in the air.
Relationships: authunity, tankie/nazi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 38





	Nothing's Fair in Love and War

**Author's Note:**

> the working title for this was "Starving to death like a pathetic degenerate VS Hard voring your friend like a chad"
> 
> if there are any mistakes, inform me, i cant spell

The two men sat on the couch, not saying a word to each other. Both of them were staring at the empty can of soup that was finished days ago on the small table in front of them. That was their last piece of produce, and the dread of starvation hung in the air. Commie tapped his foot on the floor to conceal nervousness, seeing Nazi grip the fabric of his clothes with the corner of his eye. Both of them weren’t thrilled about current events, with the blockade putting more pressure on them than needed.

“So—” Tankie started, awkwardly clearing his throat, but he was cut off by the other man immediately.

“You’re the one who should be proposing solutions,” he barked, his usual silky voice cracking. “After all, you have the most experience with starvation, or did you never experience it yourself and only made your people suffer while bathing in luxuries with the rest of the party?”

Commie frowned and opened his mouth to ask where the venomous words came from, but closed it again, feeling sorry for Nazi. He was clearly far too agitated to think clearly or listen to the communist right now.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Tankie could see the shorter man begin to fume at the question, turning his head towards him with a grimace, which then slowly morphed into a mere mask of anger with a lining of anxiety and fear.

“Yeah, no shit, moron,” he turned away and bowed his head down, titling his hat to cover his eyes more. “I could die here, with you of all people, not even in battle for the fatherland but from starvation like a useless degenerate. I’m not exactly excited about that possibility.”

Tankie sighed. He felt sorry, he knew Nazi was less experienced than him with general hardship, and while extremely dangerous, he tended to panic easier when thrown into abnormal situations.

“Look, it’s going to be okay,” just as the communist was about to start a pep talk, Nazi’s stomach grumbled, and he scrunched up into a ball on the couch.

“It’s not going to be okay, you stupid fucking commie,” he said, his voice shattered. “We’re going to starve.”

Tankie stared the man sitting beside him, surprised at how devastated he was. He caught a glimpse of the glassy blue eyes that were deliberately hiding behind the shadows falling onto his face. The stress seemed to be getting to Nazi, and with how much shit he bottled up it was no wonder the beginning of his breaking was this disastrous.

Commie put his face in his hands. He knew there was a solution, he just needed to formulate it in a way as to not freak his comrade out even more.

“Okay,” he began speaking, trying to get his voice as soft as possible. “I know a way to get you— us, I mean, to not starve.”

The soft voice didn’t work, as Nazi only widened his eyes and started fidgeting more.

“What— what the fuck are you planning?” his voice rose to almost a scream, and Tankie really needed to find a way to salvage this.

“Calm down, Nazi,” he ordered, reaching out to grab him but stopped mid-way, realizing it’s probably going to make things worse. He sighed, closing his eyes for a second to process. “Look, I— I need you to not lose your shit at what I’m about to say. Okay?”

The fascist eyed him with suspicion, still apprehensive.

“Promise me.”

Nazi rolled his eyes but nodded.

“Okay. I promise I won’t ‘lose my shit’. You happy?”

Tankie sighed yet again, looking directly into the other man’s eyes and, unable to word what he had to say better, he just spit it out.

“You need to eat me.”

Nazi’s eyes went wide, but before he could say anything the communist plastered his hand across the other’s mouth.

“You promised not to lose your shit,” he reminded, firmly keeping the fascist’s yapper closed despite the muffled sounds of protest. “If you don’t want to starve to death like a pathetic maggot, you have to eat a part of one of my limbs. You understand?”

He carefully released Nazi’s mouth, hoping he had collected himself. Sadly, the first thing he did was begin screeching.

“WHAT THE FUCK? _Eat_ you? **_Raw?_** ”

“There’s no way to cook anything, if you haven’t noticed we don’t have electricity _or_ any other way to start a fire, so yes, raw,” the communist started to get frustrated with how difficult everything was with the fascist on the verge of a breakdown, so he stood up and threw off his coat, starting to prepare his arm.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

Tankie turned around, about to be annoyed at the other man but his frown softened as he saw Nazi, nested into the corner of the couch like a terrified kitten cornered in an alleyway. His expression was of a terrified and lost soldier, one who hasn’t yet experienced real horrors of war firsthand, who was prepared to bathe in blood, die of wounds or in glorious battle, but was completely thrown off balance when met with the helplessness of long, torturous death which he had to accept long before it came.

Commie took a deep breath and sat back down.

“It’s okay, if you’re not prepared yet we can wait a bit more without eating. Although you’ll probably get only worse from here,” he eyed his comrade’s thin physique.

“What about you?” the fascist was way quieter now, although the fear was still detectable in his voice.

“I’m more resilient than you. I’ll be fine.”

“But… what if this whole thing goes on for longer? You’ll need to eat at some point, and we still have no food so will you have to eat—”

He couldn’t get the last word out but the communist still understood. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep himself from getting angry at the man in front of him for being so panicked.

“We’ll solve that when it becomes a problem,” the frustration was slipping into Tankie’s voice, but he quickly realized he wasn’t doing a good job of calming down his comrade. “I just promise I won’t do anything you don’t agree to, okay?”

Nazi nodded, hugging his knees. Commie sat closer to him, pulling out a bottle of spirit and rubbing it on his arm with a cloth.

“It’d taste disgusting,” the fascist pointed out, staring at the larger man’s arm.

“What, would you prefer to die of disease instead?” he responded, but immediately regretted it seeing more anxiety rise in the deep blue eyes. He just offered his arm and sighed. “Dig in.”

Nazi took the arm into his hands, still unsure. He brought his teeth to the skin, barely touching it, trembling, but unable to penetrate. Tankie patiently waited for him, until the smaller man recoiled, letting go of his arm.

“Commie, I can’t do this!” he was about to hug himself and curl up back into a ball, but the communist caught his hands ad squeezed them tightly.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said in an assertive tone, and then went into a soft whisper. “Both of us are going to be fine. We’ll live on, we’ll get out of this, we’ll continue to live out lives. Alright? It’s a promise.”

The fascist stay silent for a few moments, and then took a shaky breath.

“And how many empty promises did you make to the green one?”

The question gave him whiplash, but he didn’t have time to react, as the dam finally broke, and the waterworks pooled out of Nazi’s eyes. He quickly moved his hand to cup the other’s cheek and gently brushed off the tears off, trying his best to salvage him.

“This time it’s not a lie, okay? This time I mean it, we’re going to be fine, both of us.”

The sobbing mess of a man put his hand on Commie’s, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

“But for that to happen I have to _eat_ you.”

“And I’m okay with that!” Tankie assured, pulling him into a hug. “It’s just a small sacrifice in order to be able to come out alive with you.”

He rubbed the fascist’s back, feeling him sob in his arms, letting him sob in his arms. This was stressful, of course, and only one of them was used to this. Only one of them had experience. Only one was hardened enough by the cruelties of life to be willing to sacrifice his own flesh for the betterment of others.

Eventually they parted. Nazi somberly took Commie’s arm and put his teeth onto it again. His eyes watered again, and Tankie grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze of reassurance, like the one would during a vaccine as a child. After stabilizing his breath, the teeth penetrated skin. A piece of flesh torn out, scarlet running down the chin, mixing with the tears and falling on the uniform. He repressed whatever taste he even felt at this point and swallowed.

“Eat more,” gently nodded the communist, as if unfazed by the pain.

A tremble sent down a weak, starved body, one more bite, this time the process was quicker. Swallowing isn’t that hard the second time you do it. More blood spilled everywhere, on the couch, onto the uniforms, but Tankie was still unfazed.

“You can take more—”

“ _No_ , Commie, I can’t!” the fascist let go of the arm and clasped his mouth with his hands. He was a bloody mess.

He was tossed a napkin by the bigger man, with which to clean off all the red on his face. They sat in silence for a while, not sure how to continue with life now that this happened.

Finally, Nazi stood up.

“I’m going to sleep.”

He started walking to the bedroom but stopped as soon as the communist tried to stand up himself.

“Don’t follow me,” he said, not turning to face his just-over dinner. He then added on quietly. “Please.”

The fascist walked away, and Tankie slumped back down on the couch. He took out the bottle of spirit from his coat and uncapped it. Bringing it over his wound, he unceremoniously poured it all over his ripped apart flesh.

He clenched his teeth as the liquid got into every part of his arm, burning him.

It felt agonizingly painful. But at least it _felt_.

**Author's Note:**

> i kinda ignored the poll for this fic but that's bc my conception of relationship dynamics is too ascended for you plebs to understand.
> 
> jritter shoutout (although i have no idea why u would be reading this if u don't know me on jritter already): snufkinisgay


End file.
